


if you want another (say you need another)

by notcaycepollard



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, mentioned Bobbi/Hunter, mentions of Bobbi's torture by Ward, otp: my favorite idealists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:56:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5071786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/pseuds/notcaycepollard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She slides sideways until she's lying with her head in Mack's lap, and he's solid and he's real and he's there, and god, yeah, it's definitely more than she should have, she thinks, but she keeps going anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you want another (say you need another)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts), [RowboatCop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/gifts), [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts).



Hunter's been radio-silent for  _weeks_ , and it's fine, Bobbi's sure it's fine, he's just undercover, he's not dead.  _Don't die out there_ , she'd told him, and that call-and-response is so hardwired in them both, she feels like he can't possibly have gone and done it anyway. But she's having a bad night, and maybe it's easier to worry about Hunter than to let herself think about Ward or Kara or needles or the feeling of cuffs raw against her wrists. If she was in a better physical space, she'd work out through this until she's nothing but breathless, sweaty muscle movement. But her knee aches and grinds against itself, and she can feel every missing inch of lung capacity, and it's just not fair, none of it is fair, and  _fair_ feels like a stupid, childish concept right now.

She winds up in the lounge with a bottle of scotch and a glass, and that's where Mack finds her. 

"Barbara," he says, and she tilts her head to indicate he should sit down. "Bad night?"

"Yeah," she says. "Yeah, you could- yeah. You want to join me?"

"Hmmm," Mack says, but he doesn't say no, so she picks up the bottle, pours him two fingers of whisky. Her hands shake as she passes it to him. Mack doesn't say anything, just takes the glass from her, takes a sip and watches as she pulls a mouthful straight from the bottle.

"Healthy coping mechanisms," she cracks, "I've clearly been learning too much from Hunter, right."

"We've got a psych on base for a reason, you know," Mack says, swirls his drink and sips it contemplatively. "If you get tired of drowning your sorrows."

"My sorrows do better drowned than analyzed," Bobbi tells him, lifts the bottle to her lips again. It was fuller when she started, she thinks, she doesn't know how much she's had but maybe the answer is more than she should have. She slides sideways until she's lying with her head in Mack's lap, and he's solid and he's real and he's  _there_ , and god, yeah, it's definitely more than she should have, she thinks, but she keeps going anyway.

"I think you've had enough," Mack says after a while, takes the bottle out of her hand and puts it back on the table, and Bobbi closes her eyes, focuses on feeling his breathing, the smooth leather of the couch, the sting at the back of her throat.

"What if Hunter dies out there," she says out loud, her eyes still closed, directing the question not  _to_ Mack but just into the space around them. It's like breathing out a cloud of dark smoke, letting it dissipate into the air, and now that it's out there, she feels like she can breathe again. Mack strokes her hair back off her forehead, just once, makes no platitudes, and Bobbi remembers the days, weeks after he'd lost Tim.

"Come on," he says eventually, "let's get you to bed."

He walks with her to her bunk, leans against the doorframe, and Bobbi feels reckless and desperate enough that she turns to him, steps into his space, seals her mouth against his. Mack doesn't kiss back, just grabs her upper arms, holds her still. 

"Barbara," he says, gentle, "if you want this that's okay, that's more than okay, but don't do it like this." Yeah, she thinks, he's right, don't make it a grief reaction or something out of loneliness and drunken bad choices, don't cheapen it, don't cheapen what she and Mack have had for so long. Even so, it's an effort to pull away.  

"Stay," she asks. "Please?" Mack nods, lies down on top of her blankets, lets her settle her head against his chest, and she can feel the headache begin behind her eyes already, but for now, for now, it's making the best of a bad night. 

In the morning, Mack is easy and calm, ignores what could have been awkward, and Bobbi feels something tentative bloom into life in her chest. Mack's been her best friend for so long, she thinks, could she never, did she never? But he ruffles her hair, laughs at her hungover groaning but gets up and grabs her a glass of water and an alka-seltzer, and Bobbi wonders, suddenly, what her life would be like if she kissed him again.

She doesn't. They don't. Hunter's out there,  _not dying_ , and they don't.

 

+

 

"Hey," she tells Mack, "I need you."

"Hmmm?" he asks, looking startled, and Bobbi frowns, shifts her weight.

"Sparring? In the gym. In ten."

"Ugh," Mack groans, "you know I went toe-to-toe with a terrifying Inhuman earlier today, right? I'm not in top sparring form right now, Bobbi."

"Mack,  _please_ ," Bobbi gets out, and her voice cracks, and he considers her silently for a moment.

"Yeah," he says eventually. "Yeah, Barbara, okay, just give me a minute, I'm here for you."

When he joins her in the gym, he goes easy at first, lets her land hits she knows he'd usually block, and that's not what she wants. It's the opposite of what she wants. She wants him to push her, to make her  _fight_ , to feel her blood pound and her punches connect and to take the damn hits, and Mack going easy on her makes her feel like she'll never be one hundred percent. Bobbi sweeps his feet out from under him, pins him down, bares her teeth.

"Fight me  _harder_ ," she tells him, and his eyes widen and then narrow in understanding.

"If that's what you need," he says, pushes her off, the muscles of his arms cording in effort, and this round, he doesn't pull any punches. She can feel the burn of her lungs straining with effort, feel her reflexes struggling after weeks of slow rehab, and maybe this isn't a healthy coping mechanism either, maybe this is another form of self-destruction, but fuck, it feels so good. "Come on, Barbara," Mack teases, swings and ducks and grabs and flips her, and she dances on her feet, tosses her hair and throws another kick, and suddenly, suddenly, goes down hard.

" _Fuck_ ," she hisses, and Mack's on his knees beside her, looking much more concerned than he needs to. "It's okay, it's okay," she tells him, "it's fine, it's just-"

"Your knee? The knee you've had two surgeries on? The knee you're still in rehab for? Come on, Barbara," Mack says again, in a very different tone, and she leans back, frowns, feels defeated.

"I hate this," she says, as he gently takes off the brace, pushes up her legging, checks her range of movement. "Mack, I hate this."

"I know," he says. "I know you do."

"Coulson won't approve me going into combat," she says quietly, and Mack closes his fingers around her bare ankle, strokes her ankle bone lightly. "He says I'm not fit."

"At least you've got lab work," Mack jokes, and Bobbi groans, rolls her eyes.

"Fitz is being an ass," she complains, "I'm so done with it, I'm so done with it  _all_ , Mack. I'm not a war widow. I'm not waiting patiently for my sweetheart to return from the front."

"Okay," Mack says, runs his finger once more across her ankle, and she shivers, lets herself feel it. "You gonna tell Hunter that?"

"I would," Bobbi snaps. "If he was around to tell. Or  _answering calls_."

"Right," Mack concedes, lets her foot go, rolls her legging down, sits back and looks at her for a moment. Her skin feels hot where his fingers have been; she wants to press back against him, warm herself on his touch and his smile and his steady, teasing grin.

"Mack-" she says, and lets herself want it.

 

+

 

When May walks back into base, her face is so dark that Bobbi thinks for one long, terrible moment that Hunter did die out there. Then May's eyes slide sideways, and her face shifts from grief to anger, and Hunter saunters into sight, shrugs at her.

"So _rry_ ," he says. "I really am. But the good doctor is fine, yeah? Coulson said so," and Bobbi thinks she's clearly missed something bad here.

"Guys," she says. "What..."

"Ward had Andrew under surveillance," May says flatly. "Said he'd kill him unless we dropped our weapons. Hunter took the shot anyway." Then she punches Hunter in the mouth, a movement that's all tightly constrained fury, turns on her heel and walks off.

"You shot him even though you knew Andrew would die?" Bobbi demands. Hunter winces, touches his mouth and pulls away bloody fingers.

"I did it for you!" he protests, "Bob, I couldn't not, and  _hello_ , it's nice to see you too, how've you been?"

"How've I- is that  _it_? You walk back in, and you say, hey, I shot Ward for  _you_ , let's just get back to wherever we were. You were gone for  _months_ , Hunter. And you didn't do it for me. I didn't ask, and you didn't  _wait_ for me, and you didn't do it for me. Don't you _dare_ say you did it for me, not when May needed you to hold the damn shot." She walks away, doing her best not to limp.

She doesn't even know where she's going until she collides bodily with Mack in the hallway, blinks up at him, takes a breath and pushes it down and just gives in. "Mack," she says, "I-" and grabs his shoulder, slams her mouth against his, kisses him hard and furious and her throat aching with unshed angry tears.

"Hunter's back, huh," Mack says, and Bobbi pulls away, takes another breath, closes her eyes.

"Yeah," she says, "it- yeah."

"That's twice," Mack says, quiet. "Twice now, Barbara, that you've kissed me for the wrong reasons, and just, don't make it a third, okay?"

"Oh," Bobbi whispers, "oh, I- sorry, Mack, fuck."

"Hey," he says, touches her arm. "It's cool. You're still my favorite idealist. I've just watched you and Hunter play out this drama since Dubai, I don't want to get in the middle of it." But she _wants_ him in the middle of it, Bobbi thinks, not in the middle of stupid played-out bullshit between her and Hunter but just in the middle of her life.

"Right," she says instead. "Yeah. Totally." 

She still wants it,  _knows_ she wants it, and maybe it'll be enough to break the idiot adrenaline-hit rollercoaster idea of love in her brain. She's never been friends with a guy first. Suddenly, suddenly, she wants that to change.

 

+

 

Ward's not dead, and Bobbi thinks somewhat spitefully that Hunter can't even do  _that_  right. She expects him to go back out, to throw himself back into the fight with his ideas about vengeance and honor and stupid masculine pride. His continued presence on base is a surprise. Bobbi finds herself watchful, waiting for the beat to drop, for him to let on what his next plan of attack is, and doesn't realize he's watching her right back.

She finds Hunter sitting at the kitchen table two nights later, drinking a beer and looking thoughtful. He looks up when he hears her footsteps, raises an eyebrow in greeting and takes a long sip from his bottle.

"So," he says. "You and Mack. You ever gonna tell me about that?"

"I- Hunter- that's not-" Bobbi sputters, and Hunter rolls his eyes.

"Sit down, Bob. You want a beer? I know, I know, you and Mack, you're not a thing. I know you. That's not something you'd ever do, not without breaking things off first. I can admit that, even while I'm calling you a hell beast. But let's not beat around the bush, yeah? It  _could_ be a thing."

"Yeah," Bobbi admits, sinking into a chair opposite him and accepting a beer. "Yeah, Hunter, it could be a thing."

"And I was out chasing down Ward," he says, his eyes sharp. "Not answering phone calls. Difficult to break things off when I'm incommunicado."

"Hunter..." Bobbi says, trails off, picks at the label on her bottle. "This isn't how I wanted things to go down. I thought- I don't know what I thought. But we're no good for each other. Not like this. We've been on this ride long enough. I know how this one ends."

"Another divorce and another ring thrown somewhere improbable and dramatic and everyone getting extremely tired of our complaining about our evil exes," Hunter agrees, and Bobbi feels off-balance with how easy this is.

"I didn't expect you to take this so easily," she tells him, honest, and he rolls his eyes again.

"Yes, thank you, I can have grown as a person. I don't know, Bob. I'd be more hurt about it if it weren't Mack. He's someone I know has your back. Probably even more than I do, actually."

"It could be good," Bobbi agrees, her voice soft, and she smiles to herself at the admission, because it could, it could be so good. She finishes her beer, looks across the table at him. "Does that mean you're leaving?"

"Nah," Hunter says, his voice so carefully casual that Bobbi knows what he's hiding. "The Director would probably kill me. Signed on the dotted line, and all, and it's not like SHIELD has a lot of agents right now. Plus I have to make things right with May, if she'll let me, although honestly, that's twice I've fucked it up with her, so I'm not holding my breath."

"Right," Bobbi says, winces in sympathy. "I'm glad you're not leaving, Lance. Seriously."

"Well," Hunter tells her, "I still love you, Bob, I'll probably always love you, and if we can work together as colleagues and friends, then that... that's something, right? Maybe that'll be me learning something too."

"Huh," Bobbi murmurs. "Huh. Yeah, Hunter, that's- yeah. Friends?"

"Friends," he agrees, and she thinks, yeah, let's try being friends with a guy after. She's learning something, too.

 

+

 

Bobbi doesn't find Mack immediately, waits for a few days, lets things settle within her, because she wants to do this as a certain thing, to feel it as something strong and solid that she  _wants_ with all her heart. She think she does, she knows, but she wants to  _know_. 

Three days later, she walks into Mack's workshop, sees his broad shoulders and the line of his arms and the angle of his wrists and the way he's frowning down at the tech on his bench, and it hits her like a freight train.

"Mack," she says. "Oh god, Mack," and launches herself at him, pushes him up against his workbench, grabs the back of his neck and kisses him. It's not reckless or angry or desperate but it's  _fierce_ , it's everything that's been burning between them, and when Mack licks into her mouth, tangles his hands in her hair, kisses her back, it's enough that she feels her knees buckle.

"Third time's a charm," he laughs against her lips, and Bobbi gives into her impulse to wrap her legs around his waist and just climb him. Mack gets her by the hips, kisses her again, kisses her like he can't get enough, and she wonders how long he's been waiting for her to realize this is what it's been all along.

"You should-" she suggests. "We should-"

"Oh shit  _yes_ , Barbara," Mack agrees, and thank god his bunk is so close to his workshop, because they slam into it not a moment too soon. Bobbi's shirt is abandoned on the workshop floor, and Mack has his mouth pressed to her throat, and yes, yes, this is the surest thing Bobbi's ever felt.

"Come  _on_ ," she says, and Mack laughs again, slows the drag of his hands down her body.

"Patience," he tells her, "we've got all night."

"We've got all  _forever_ ," she agrees, "that doesn't mean I don't want you in me right this  _second_ , Mack, I feel like I've waited long enough."

"You'll have to wait some more, Bobbi, because I intend to take my time," Mack says, smiles at her like the sun, but he gets her jeans off, pushes her back on the bed, presses two fingers slow and thick into her, and Bobbi tilts her hips against it even more impatiently.

"Mack,  _please_ ," she grits out, and Mack slowly, slowly drags his thumb across her clit.

"Should have known you do it like you spar," he teases. "It's all harder and faster and pushing yourself to your limits, right, Barbara? You're about three seconds off sweeping my feet out from under me and pinning me down."

"Yeah," Bobbi agrees, breathless. "Yeah, I-  _fucking god_  - I will, if you don't  _get on with it_."

"Is that what you need?" Mack asks. "Is that what you need, Barbara?"

"I need  _you_ ," she says, and it starts out sharp but goes soft halfway through her sentence. "I need you, Mack."

"Yeah," he says, and pulls his fingers out, leans in for a kiss and pushes himself in, holding himself above her. "Yeah, Barbara, I'm here for you."

" _Oh_ ," she gasps, "oh god.  _Mack_." He's always, he's  _always_ been there for her, and she's realizing it, and she thinks she might break with how good this feels and with how much she just  _wants_ this. He grabs her hands, twines his fingers with hers, thrusts his hips harder, and she arches into it, breathes hard, lets her orgasm wash over her with sudden force. She's seeing stars. It's  _everything_.

This isn't a rollercoaster, she thinks later, this is bedrock, someone there to catch her when she falls, someone who shares a solid history of love and friendship and joy and heartbreak, and oh, she's making a change she should have made forever ago, because Mack's friendship was a comfort but Mack's love, that feels like home.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to kill Hunter off but I couldn't do it because I am weak
> 
> (started this after 3x03 but finished it after 3x04, so it's not quite canonical in terms of timeframes. Let's just pretend Hunter spent months trying to get into HYDRA before meeting up with May, okay.)


End file.
